Of all the cold beer joints in all the party towns in the world, we walked into Patong, Phuket, which is like (eternal spring break + extrovert full moon) x go-go bars + (souvenir peddlers)². Yes, Patong can get formulaic – fresh, colorful seafood unfurling down the strip as waiters urge you to come to their restaurant, go-go glamor pusses vaulting around poles vying for your attention, the bombastic blare of Muay Thai promoter pick-up trucks, and trinkets, trinkets, trinkets being hustled at you from all directions. That’s Patong to me, a garish, cheesy postcard, except that it’s alive, larger than life. It’s not even worth writing home about.
While dodging SCUBA dive touts and fake Rolex peddlers, I happened to turn my head to the west, and saw this. What a relief from the neon, disco balls and headlights on the other side! I weaved through a sea of tuk-tuks and rushed down to the beach, to erase the sights of Patong from my mind and inceptionize this nature-sent seascape into my consciousness.
Because it’s scenes like this that blow the postcards out of the Gulf of Thailand.